I’m days away from celebrating my fifty-ninth birthday. Ready to take my final stroll (running seems so unnecessary), across a decade that’s been less than fabulous. My fifties have been tumultuous, terrifying and troubling. A decade of distress marked by being laid-off twice (something I’ve never experienced prior in my life). The death of my father, relatives and friends, a past love and my cherished cat.
My weary heart bearing witness to my tired body as it succumbs to the toil of time. My past of poor choices allied with the laws of gravity; my fleshy figure sags and stiffens with each new sunrise and sunset. My bloom is fading; my petals preparing to be pressed onto perpetuity.
Having lived long enough to make a million memories while playing a thousand parts. My mind is filled with remembrances that seem surreal; a life of countless scenes. Toddler to teenager; student to senior. A life of highs and lows; lows and highs, but largely a life lived in-between these emotional extremes.
My strand of consciousness connecting me to my Creator and all creation. Moments of love alongside too many moments when love was replaced with something other than love. All the while knowing my life, like all life, hangs by a thread that will fray and fail at some future point. Only the when is in question, not the if.
My moments of melancholy punctuated with memories of a life that I hardly recognize anymore. Time is like the wind; seen only in what it erodes never in what it truly is, a leveler of life. A truth that I avoided and averted when I was younger, but I could no longer elude especially in my fifties.
Cognizant that there is a season for everything and a time for every event under heaven including my life in this world. A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to uproot what was planted. My autumn has arrived; the harvest is near.
When I was nineteen, I had a safe sense of sureness that I would live another twenty years. When I was thirty-nine, I had a slightly safe sense of sureness that I would live another twenty years. As I turn fifty-nine, I recognize that each new day is an unsure gift.
My life’s clock is winding down. Like sands through the hourglass, I see the days of my life slipping away. My time in this world emptying itself into the ether of eternity.
My sad sensitive skies and my angst of aging, always retreat when I recognize all the love that has surrounded me. Love that I never earned (love is never earned), but was nonetheless given to me by people and animals because love is always about grace and generosity.
Even though my fifties weren’t fabulous, there were miraculous. At fifty-five, I finally opened my humbled heart to the ceaseless source of all love, God. God is love.
Love that gratifies my heart and guides my head. Love that surpasses all human understanding of what love means, as opposed to the sappy self-centered love that society sells. Love that always seeks the well-being of all humans even in the most hostile of situations and expects no reciprocity. Love that only God is capable of planting within the hearts of all His children, even when we rebel to take what we want. Love that’s brought me peace, particularly when I need it most.
While I don’t know my future, I do know that there will be people who I love deeply who will die and I will cry a terrible torrent of tears; again, and again. My age forewarning me that death will become a familiar figure; the grim guest that never goes.
I also know with certainty that Love has conquered death. That the grave has no power over my life because my life is rooted in something greater than myself, Love. I believe Love is what upholds the universe because it envelops my heart.
It’s this love that will sustain me in as I walk through the valley of shadows. It’s this love that will liberate everyone who clings to the Vine. It’s this love that’s rooted in the very essence of God’s character that sustains all creatures and all of creation because love is life, and life is love no matter our age.
Peace. God loves you.
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This is not a book about being “religious.” It’s for anyone who has ever felt deserted, disillusioned, or disconnected from God because of shame, fear, or spiritual burnout. It’s for anyone ready to trade confusion for clarity and embrace the peace that passes all understanding.